Simeon was angry; also a trifle skeptical.
“Mr. Williams,” he demanded, “do you mean to tell me that THEM people have agreed to move you cheaper'n I can?”
“Their price—their actual price may be no lower; but considering their up-to-date outfit and—er—progressive methods, they're cheaper. Yes. Morning, Phinney.”
He turned on his heel and walked off. Mr. Phinney, crestfallen and angrier than ever, moved on to where the depot master stood waiting for him. Captain Sol smiled grimly.
“You don't look merry as a Christmas tree, Sim,” he observed. “What did his Majesty have to say to you?”
Simeon related the talk with Williams. The depot master's grim smile grew broader.
“Sim,” he asked, with quiet sarcasm, “don't you realize that progressive methods are necessary in movin' a house?”
Phinney tried to smile in return, but the attempt was a failure.
“Yes,” went on the Captain. “Well, if you can't take the Grand Panjandrum home, you can set on the fence and see him go by. That ought to be honor enough, hadn't it? However, I may need some of your ridiculous figgers on a movin' job of my own, pretty soon. Don't be TOO comical, will you?”
“What do you mean by that, Sol Berry?”